


A Little Kindness

by Bookshido



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, F/M, Rumplestiltskin Rapunzel Crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 01:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11243289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookshido/pseuds/Bookshido
Summary: The kingdom of Lawrence has been down on it's luck economically, and no one has been hit worse than the small family businesses. Y/N has been caring for her siblings since their parents died and when she selflessly gives to a beggar on the street, she doesn't realize that that little act of kindness would change her whole life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Cinderella AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/300852) by Winchester-Writes. 



“Y/N!” your fourteen year-old younger brother yelled from down the stairs right as you tried to untangle a thick knot in your hair.

His yell made you jump and yank on your hair painfully with your hairbrush. You grimaced and tried to keep the pain out of your voice as you called back.

“Yes, Michael?” you yelled back, returning to the task of trying to undo the knot.

“We’re out of milk,” he replied, sounding crest-fallen and downcast at the announcement.

You sighed, knowing that this was only the most recent in a long list of items that your small family had run out of in the past weeks.

First it had been the wool that you had been using to weave blankets for the upcoming winter.

Then it was firewood that you’d been hoping would tide you all over until Farmer Harvelle could deliver his next wheat crop and the family mill could begin work again.

Next were the chickens, one by one. The hens were almost as old as your youngest brother, Castiel, who was going to be eight on his next birthday, and they had stopped laying long ago.

The years following your parents’ death had been difficult to adjust to. As both of your parents were only children with no living parents or relatives, the family windmill had been bequeathed to you upon their passing. Formerly, your parents had been amongst the wealthiest in the town and everyone valued their opinions (even if they didn’t follow them).

But when their daughter, an inexperienced fifteen year old, had taken the reins of the family business, the townsfolk had laughed in your face and taken their business to another miller almost half a mile further away from the town than you were. Only a few loyal customers remained and were willing to pay for your flour and help you learn what to charge and how to barter (the baker, Gadreel; Hannah and Charlie, the local seamstresses; and Sir Chuck, a retired knight whose stories had constantly entertained you as a child).

Thus, here you were, trying to decide if now was the perfect time to go into town and sell the last of your mother’s belongings: her wedding ring.

Long ago, you had hoped to wear it at your own wedding, but if the choice came down to feeding your family or sentimentality, there was only one course of action.

You stood with a sigh, gathering your skirts around you and grabbing the small satchel that contained the ring off your bedside table. You paused out of habit in front of where your mirror had once stood before you’d traded it a few weeks ago with Charlie for a complete set of new winter clothes for you and your siblings. She’d been very kind, knowing that a full length mirror wasn’t nearly worth an entire set of clothes for four people, but also that you wouldn’t have any money until Farmer Harvelle’s fields ripened before the frost.

You hadn’t told the other children that you had already been approached twice by Lord Meta with an offer to buy your land from you. You had turned him down both times, but each time he came to call and offer, you knew that the money would be very helpful to keeping you all alive.

You shook the thought from your head and headed for your door, cracking it open and heading down the steep stairs that led down to the kitchen of the mill house that was attached to the family windmill. As you descended, you could hear Michael trying to calm your younger sister, Bela, and Castiel whining about how he ‘didn’t want to eat bread and water for breakfast again!’.

“Hello,” you said loudly over the yelling when you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Y/N!” Bela yelled, getting up from her chair and running over to hug you from the front.

Castiel got up as well to greet you, but walked over quietly and hugged you from the side, pressing his face into your flour splattered skirts.

Michael stayed at the table and just watched the scene with a gentle smile that made him seem even more tired than his sharp cheekbones and slightly sunken eyes portrayed. You met his gaze with equally tired eyes and kneeled down to hug Castiel and Bela better.

Castiel was only seven, but had managed to get himself into more trouble than more kids she’d known. At only three, he’d managed to climb up onto the roof of the millhouse and stayed up there for a few hours, sending you and your brother into a frenzy. He’d learned to read by age six by reading the one of only three books that your family owned and went to school every day, even when it was pouring rain. But even with his devotion to school, he’d never listen to anyone’s requests or rules but your’s.

At nine years old, Bela showed more compassion and curiosity than most kids her age (Save only her brother, Castiel) and went into town about once a week to spend the entire day with Sir Chuck. Bela always came back with stories of far-away lands and, more often than not, pocket change and sometimes even food that she’s managed to pinch from local store owners. You always scolded her, but when she explained that she was just trying to help out, you could never resist the puppy dog look on her face and gave her a hug and sent her up to bed.

Michael was already a man at fourteen and had had to grow up into a mature, responsible adult at only eight in order to help you tend to the mill and your younger siblings. He’d changed from the passionate, sword-fighting obsessed brother to the quiet, obedient assistant with an amazing mind for numbers. He’d left the town school only two years ago and had explained that you needed him for more help around the mill rather than in school. But you knew that he missed it dearly, especially when he helped Bela and Castiel study for their own schoolwork.

It was all of these things that you had suddenly begun noticing after stepping into the dual role of sister and mother six years ago. The transition had been fairly difficult (you’d never known how much your parents had to do until you had to do it yourself), but after a month or two, your family had settled into a fairly normal, if not more somber, routine.  You managed the mill and the actual process of making the flour along with customer dealings. Michael managed the finances, once he was old enough, in your father’s old ledger.

“Alright,” you said after a few more moments of hugging them. “I have to go into town to get some more money. I’ll be back in a few hours. Michael’s in charge.”

Castiel nodded first, then Bela cocked her head.

“Can I come into town with you?” she asked sweetly, smiling up at you with that look that meant that she really wanted it.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you said, crouching down so that you were at eye level. “But you have to stay and help Michael out with whatever he needs and keep an eye on your little brother, okay?”

Bela nodded, her smile turning into a disappointed frown. “Okay, Y/N,” she said, shifting awkwardly before briefly hugging you again. She let go and ran back over to the table to finish her bread.

“Castiel?” you asked him, turning to your youngest brother. “Listen to Bela and Michael, okay?”

He nodded silently, hugging you and quickly letting go.

You stood, gathered your skirts around you, and went to Michael. “Take care of them,” you told him, planting a kiss on his forehead that he quickly wiped off.

“I always do,” he assured you, a tired smile creeping onto his face.

You gave them all one last, fond look before grabbing a shawl and hurrying out into the brisk fall morning.

* * *

 

The road to the town was quiet for the time of day and you passed the time walking by singing and humming little ditties your mother had taught you. Some were a bit morbid, but they were a reminder of the good times before she had passed away.

“Red, the blood of angry men,” you sang at the top of your lungs, almost skipping as you approached a crossroads that marked the halfway point between the mill and the town. “Black, the dark of ages past..”

“Excuse me, miss,” an old beggar man called from a corner of the crossroads.

You were halfway through the crossroads when you heard the man’s words and you froze in place, embarrassed that he had to have heard you singing.

“Ah, yes, sir?” you asked, turning around to face him.

“You have a lovely voice,” he said, staring blindly past you. “Tis a pity I cannot see the lovely face that must accompany it.”

“Why thank you, sir,” you said, feeling a bit awkward that a blind beggar was complimenting your voice. You studied him a bit more, trying to understand more about this old man.

He was very skinny, with every bone showing and defined under the skin. His clothes (or what was left of them) were threadbare and ripped in many places, providing little comfort against the cold winds that had just begun to blow down from the north. His eyes were milky blue with cataracts and were sunken in from lack of food. His beard was unkempt with bits of twigs and dirt and some food stuck in it, creating a slightly disgusting display. As one of the breezes blew by and you shivered into your shawl, he shivered into rags. His only worldly belonging was a staff, about five feet tall that was made of a gnarled and knotted wood and seemed like it would break at any moment.

Knowing what you must do and wishing that you didn’t, you slowly began to unwrap the shawl from around your shoulders and approach the elderly man. With much care and kindness, you bent over and draped the shawl around the man’s bony shoulders, giving it to him.

At first, the beggar didn’t seem to notice that the shawl had been placed on him, but as you stepped back, he began to shiver less and sighed pleasurably, drawing the thick wool closer around himself.

“Thank you, kind soul,” he said, sounding better already. “I promise that I will help you in whatever way I can.”

“Unless you can ensure that my siblings will live safe lives and never have to want for food and shelter again, then I’m afraid that you can’t help me,” you said feeling sad, but also glad that you had helped him. “Other than that, I am quite content. Enjoy the shawl, sir.” You turned away from him and began walking back towards the town.

As you walked away, you didn’t look back, shivering now from your own lack of shawl, but pressing on to reach the town. What you didn’t see was the elderly man standing as though he was a boy of twelve and shrugging off the shawl to reveal suddenly well grown in muscles and a slight paunch. The beard receded and as he aged backwards, the milky blue of his eyes vanished, revealing bright brown eyes that almost looked red in certain lights. The rags turned to a nobleman’s suit and the homespun shawl looked out of place over such other rich fabrics. The final thing to change was the man’s walking staff that smoothed out and shrank down to about three feet tall with a golden handle molded in the shape of a dragon’s head.

“Yes,” he mused, the rough voice now smooth with a strange accent. “I can indeed help with that.”

A snap of his fingers and he vanished from the crossroads.


	2. The Royal Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hush hush, whisper whisper. Rumors fly quickly, don’t they? Across every town and up into the palace. Right up to the king.

After a rather anti-climatic trip to the town jeweller’s (In which they told you that they were going to be moving two towns away), you returned home. As you passed the crossroads, you looked for the beggar, but there was no sign of him. You sighed and continued on your way, hoping that you’d done the right thing.

You entered your house, passing right by your living room without another glance. You knew your siblings were in there, but you didn’t notice the small crowd as well.

The stairs felt like a mountain and you collapsed on your bed, sighing and trying to hold back tears. What were you supposed to do now?

“Hello, love,” a smooth voice said, making you jump and sit upright in surprise.

A short man in nobleman’s clothes and holding a gold topped cane was leaning on the wall of your room.

“Who are you?” you asked, standing up and looking around for something to defend yourself with.

The man smirked and blinked, the young face and wealth melting away to reveal the old man from the road. Another blink and he was back to the state you had just seen him in.

“I must say, this is a very fine shawl,” he said, tossing the cloth to you.

You lunged for it, barely catching it before it hit the ground. He smirked a little wider, making you a little more irritated.

“You never answered my question,” you said darkly, tossing the shawl onto the bed.

“I like to think of myself as an investor,” he said, walking around the edge of your room.

“And what are you here for?” you asked again.

“I’m investing in you,” he said, making you raise an eyebrow. “And your future. I have a very high stake in what exactly happens to you and your progeny.”

You gave him a confused look, feeling both violated, but intrigued as to why this obviously magical man was in your room.

“I want to help you,” he said, exasperated, rolling his eyes and pursing his lips. “All you need to know is that if the king shows up, agree to anything he says. I promise that it will work out.”

“Wait, what do you-” you cried, stepping forward as he snapped his fingers and vanished, leaving you alone in the room with a small pile of yellow dust.

Angrily, you stormed back down stairs, cursing magic and mad men who claimed to be able to help you. Muttering under your breath, you went into the living room and heard a knock at your door. Still upset, you went to it and opened the door with a creak, going pale as you stepped backwards to let him in.

“King John,” you breathed, going into a low curtsey and keeping your head bowed as he entered the room.

Bela’s eyes widened and she went into a curtsey as best she could and mimicked your movements. You tried to keep the smile off your face out of respect for the king, but a small smirk crept onto your face. Michael seemed a bit shell-shocked, but Castiel walked right up to the king and planted himself right at the king’s feet.

“You’re the king?” he asked, cocking his head curiously.

“Yes, I am,” King John said, seeming a little bit confused, but going with it.

“You don’t look like a king,” Castiel said bluntly. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Wincing, you returned to your normal pasture and decided to step in. “Um, I think that’s enough, Castiel-”

“And less fat,” Castiel said, cutting you off like he hadn’t even heard you.

At that comment, the entire room went silent. The guards were glancing between the king and the little boy, who was still looking up at the king with curious blue eyes. The king was keeping eye contact with him and seemed to be pondering the statement.

Michael started almost hyperventilating and Bela was about ready to run out of the room.

Suddenly, the king started laughing. A full on belly rolling laugh that surprised everyone in the room.

“Very observant, my dear boy,” he said, still laughing. “Yes, yes, I could probably use to lose a few pounds… my youngest has been nagging me about it for months now…”

The laughter quickly changed into a thick, phlegmy cough and the king doubled over, trying to cough up something that didn’t exist. Castiel jumped back, running over to stand next to Bela. One of the guards ran to help King John, steadying him and handing him a handkerchief. He continued to cough for almost a minute, then wheezed for another minute after that.

Finally, when he regained his breath, King John sighed.

“I suppose that was my cue for explaining why I have come here,” he said, still sounding out of breath. “I presume you are Y/N?”

You nodded, not wanting to speak and interrupt him.

“Is it true, then?” King John asked. “The rumor about you being able to spin straw into gold?”

You thought back to what the strange man in your bedroom had said about taking the king’s offer.

“Depends on why someone would want to know,” you said cryptically, not wanting to take any chances.

The king sighed and took a seat in one of your plain wooden chairs. “I am an old man,” he began. “And I have been king for far too long. It is only a matter of time before my eldest son must take on my duty, but I would rather that he did it through an abdication deal rather than after my death.

“Unfortunately, as everyone in the kingdom knows,” King John continued. “The coffers are beginning to run out and economic hardship is going to set in soon. The princes do not know of this and I would never want to leave such a burden on my son if I could help it. That is why I have come here.”

He stood stiffly, walking around the mill house and examining everything. The king paused in front of a window and began talking again.

“If you can spin straw into gold, then you can save the kingdom. I am willing to do anything, strike any deal, to ensure that my son and his family and all the members of the kingdom will want for nothing. I throw myself before you in asking for your help in making this come true. Will you help me?”

“Yes,” you agreed, feeling like a rock was sinking in your stomach with each lie. “But we must talk of compensation first.”

“Anything!” the king exclaimed.

“I want my siblings,” you said, glancing back at them carefully. “I want them to be given a life in the palace. I don’t want them to work, I want you to treat them as you would cousins or family.”

“Absolutely,” King John promised, smiling at your siblings. “They will want for nothing.”

You nodded and walked over to your siblings and crouched down in front of them.

“Michael,” you said, making him turn his attention to you quickly with piercing grey eyes. “I need you to go upstairs with Bela and Castiel to help them pack up. Be quick.”

He nodded and took your siblings by the hands, leading them upstairs with hushed answers to Bela’s millions of questions. Castiel was completely quiet, following Michael without a word, but dragging his feet. Once they were gone, you turned back to the king.

“I need you to prove that this is your ability,” the king said, clapping and signalling for two of the guards to bring forward a spinning wheel. A third brought a small pile of straw and your blood ran cold. You couldn’t spin straw into gold, you just couldn’t.

“For insurance abilities,” the king said apologetically. “I don’t want to go through so much trouble and then find out that I’ve been conned.”

You nodded, suddenly mute as you took a tentative seat at the spinning wheel. Cautiously, you slid the wheel of the spindle, making it rotate smoothly. You were very obviously stalling and the king kept waiting for you to begin spinning.

Suddenly, time slowed down. Literally, it did. Your movements were slow and when you looked up, you watched the mad man from earlier appear in your living room and walk at a normal speed over to you.

“A little magical blessing,” he whispered in your ear, kissing your cheek and vanishing again.

A tingle ran down your spine and then through your arms to your fingertips as you felt the magic go to work on you. Then time ran normally again. Praying that this would work, you picked up some strands of straw and began to thread it into the spindle.

Spinning the straw was tough, but as it slid off the wheel and into a neat pile on the ground, the golden yellow of the straw’s natural color turned metallic and hard, almost chiming with each new strand added to the pile. You couldn’t tell who was more shocked: the king, your siblings, or yourself. But you tried to hold back your own surprise by turning the wide-eyed look into a smile that covered your whole face. This was working. You were actually spinning straw into gold.

When the last of the straw was gone and the spinning wheel creaked to a halt, the king just stared at the pile of golden thread on the ground. He didn’t say a word and you felt like you were back in school again, waiting for a teacher’s judgement on your work.

“Load this gold into the carriage,” the king said softly, never taking his eyes off of it. He then raised his eyes to you. “Miss, I would recommend that you begin packing your own belongings. We need to move you from here immediately.”

You followed his orders, writing a quick letter for your good friend Rose, explaining that a family emergency had come up regarding your family’s deed and that you may not be back for a long time. Your siblings and yourself had had very little to pack up and it broke your heart to see them be placed in the royal carriage with the king and be driven off in the direction of the capitol. You, on the other hand, were placed in a simple dog-cart and driven in the opposite direction and into a deep forest. The guards who were to escort you to the safe place would only tell you that the royal family owned the land and no one ever went that deep into the woods unless they were completely out of their minds.

To your utter shock and surprise, they took you, by foot, to the final place which was a rather large, stand-alone tower in a small clearing. There was one door in the bottom that led up a spiralling staircase to a small room in the top with only a bed, a small table, and a spinning wheel there. The guards locked you in, hurrying down the stairs. You set down your only belonging, your mother’s wedding ring, on the table and flopped onto the bed, marvelling at how soft feather felt in comparison to the straw.

Each day, a group of soldiers would come into your room, drop off a huge pile of hay, and leave. Once a week, the king came to visit, giving you insight about how your siblings were doing and how much gold you had spun total and in that week. He also kept assuring you that this was the only way, that you couldn’t be safe anywhere else.

And so the weeks passed.

And then the months…

* * *

 

3 months later…

“Cut him off at the river!” the crown prince Dean yelled to his younger brother.

Sam kicked his own horse faster, going off at an angle to try and flank the stag back towards his brother. The sudden break off startled the deer they’d been chasing to run ever faster away from

“Hey, Dean?” Sam called, listening to the faint melody on the breeze. “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, pulling his horse around to face his younger brother.

“Yes, go on and catch that stag,” Sam said, making a shooing motion with his hand. “I’ll be back within an hour.”

Dean gave his brother a strange look, but complied, spurring his horse into a canter and chasing after the stag. Sam waited until he couldn’t hear his brother’s horse’s hoofbeats before he turned his own horse towards the song and began moving at a trot towards it.


	3. Locked Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help. Just out of reach. Until a golden ladder descends...

Sam moved slowly, not wanting to lose the trail because he was going too fast to hear the music. He knew that he wouldn’t have too long to wait (Dean had told him repeatedly that he was only going hunting because their father insisted on it and that as soon as he could, he’d be back to his wife and son) before Dean and the other guards came looking for him, so he was going to make the most of it.

After a few minutes, the music began to take on an actual tune and words could be heard through the trees.

“Oh, oh Death,” the woman sang. “Oh-oh Death. Won’t you spare me over another year…”

As he rode through the woods, he soon began to pick up on noises that shouldn’t have been there. A breaking branch from behind, a bird call that wasn’t native to the forest. Sam increased his pace and soon was in an all out run. As soon as his horse entered a canter, three men, dressed in mostly black and all with wicked looking swords hanging from their waists, came into view and pursuit. Sam glanced back quickly, turning his steed down a game trail that he and Dean had discovered on their last hunting trip. Luckily, this path steered him towards the singing and he kept riding faster, getting a good head on them.

Sam followed the haunting melody and as he went deeper into the forest, the volume grew, as did his pace. The pursuers were close on his trail now and he hoped that whoever was the singer would be alright with him hiding with her.

He outpaced them again and when he could, he swung off his horse, slapping it’s hindquarters and sending it running down the trail. Sam stared after it for only a few moments before he ran into the bushes, following the singing on foot.

After about ten minutes of running, Sam had to slow and take a rest. He gazed around as he panted and tried to orient himself. The singing had cut off and he didn’t know which way to go now. Then he saw it over the trees.

It was a huge tower that stood over the trees and seemed to be made of slate or some other dark stone. A simple thatched roof was over the main tower room and singing was pouring out of the one window he could see.

The tower was larger up close and he ran up to the base of it, cupping his hands and shouting.

“Excuse me, miss?” he yelled, glancing behind himself every few seconds to see if they were coming after him.

A woman with long hair stuck their head out the window. “Yes?” she called down, her voice obviously being the one who had been singing.

“I need somewhere to hide,” he explained. “There are some men after me.”

The woman vanished back inside and Sam waited for an agonizing minute before the woman yelled, “Look out!”

Sam barely had time to dive out of the way before a thick, shimmering rope landed right where he’d been standing.   
“Climb up it!” the woman shouted. “I promise that it’ll hold.”

Sam carefully tested the rope, tugging on it and then, hearing the yell from the mysterious men who were chasing him, pulling himself up the rope at a very rapid pace. This was the only chance.

Everything inside of you was screaming to not let him climb up the rope. One snip would be all it would take, a voice reminded you. But the other half had you helping to pull him up and then you both were falling down when he slipped coming in the window and you had to grab the back of his shirt to make sure he didn’t fall backwards and out to the ground. Both of you got up in a hurry, blushing and muttering apologies as you pulled the rope back into the tower. And not a moment too soon as a trio of your guards came rushing into the clearing.

“I’ll handle this,” you whispered, brushing off your dress and heading to the window.

“Miss,” one of them yelled. “Did you see a man go this way?”

“No, sorry,” you yelled back, waving goodbye to them as they rode back into the trees.

You waited until the guards were completely gone before you spoke, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at your new companion in the tower.

“Who are you?” you asked, looking him up and down carefully.

The up part took a long time, considering how tall he was. His head nearly scraped the roof of your tower and judging by his [clothes](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farmstreet.com%2Fcatalogue%2Ffull%2FMedieval-fantasy-costume-garb-cotton-brocade-coat-elven-9.jpg&t=NWZjOGVjNzBhOWExNjM2MDk2NGI2ODEwNDc1YTgxZjU2NDcwMmE4MixCdlR6R1RMUg%3D%3D&b=t%3AYmM2-EX78zdHo_cuoX_1tg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshido.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F132517191395%2Flocked-away-rumpelstiltskinrapunzel-part-three&m=1), he had to be of some sort of noble status. Not to mention that he was brutally handsome and looking into his hazel eyes was hypnotizing.

“I’m Sam,” he said, extending a hand to you.

“Y/N,” you replied, taking his hand and shaking it firmly, using the force to shake you out of the stupor. “How’d you find me?”

“I followed the singing,” he said, smiling widely. “You have a beautiful voice.”

You started smiling bashfully, bending your neck and looking down at the ground from embarrassment. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Thanks for saving me,” he said awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Who were they?”

“My guards,” you explained, glancing out the window again to see if they were still hanging around. “They say that they’re here for my protection, but I know they’re really here for the gold.”

“Why do they need to guard you?” Sam asked, cocking his head at you.

“Because of this,” you said, pursing your lips and tossing a length of the rope to him.

He obviously hadn’t been expecting it to be so heavy and he nearly dropped the metal rope. Sam shifted the load from side to side, looking over the rope with a discerning eye, obviously trying to identify the source of the shine. You knew the exact second when he realized; his eyes lit up with awe and wonder, not the usual greed and lust that most of your guards showed when they came to pick up your work of each week.

“This is gold,” he whispered in awe, looking up at you with admiration.

“Yes, it tis,” you said with a smile. “This is why I am here.”

“How do you do this?” he asked, walking across the room and setting the rope on the growing pile of your week’s work.

“I don’t understand it myself,” you admitted, taking a seat on your work stool and gesturing for him to sit on the bed. “But it has to do with my weaving of straw.”

And that was how the conversation began. You found out that he was from a noble family (Like you suspected), had an elder brother who was already married with a son, and that he hated the taste of cinnamon. He also named his horse Gabriel and he was not looking forward to his future.

“What do you mean?” you asked curiously.

“My whole future has been laid out for me,” he explained, a heavy frown coming over his face. “And all of it like I’m supposed to follow my brother. He has a perfect wife who he had a fairytale romance with. They had a son, someone to keep the family line going. He’s my father’s favorite, I know it. And I don’t know if this is all in my head or if they really feel this way, but I feel so damn smothered in my life.”

“I’m sorry,” you said empathetically, placing a hand on his thigh to show him that you cared.

Sam jumped at your touch and you drew back, looking away and brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Sorry,” you whispered, hoping that you hadn’t been too forward.

“No, don’t apologize,” Sam insisted, taking your hand and placing it back on his thigh. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You turned your head back to face him, seeing that he was sincere about that and looked genuinely worried that you were upset.

“Okay,” you said softly, smiling widely.

The conversation came much easier after that. You told Sam about your siblings and he laughed heartily when you told him about Cas’s incident when he hid from you and Michael those long years ago when he was three. He became somber when you told him about the loss of your parents and drew you into a hug like you were old friends. You didn’t know how to react, your skin tingling and sparking at his touch, but he was the one to draw back.

“Sorry,” he whispered, turning away from you and rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, don’t apologize,” you said, scooting closer and hugging him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He seemed surprised to hear you repeating his words back to him, but after only a few seconds, he hugged you back, enveloping you in his warmth and with both of you saying so much, but not talking at all.

As the light faded over the trees, the conversation began to die as well. You looked out the window, seeing the palace light up in a quick succession of windows as it did every night after sundown. It made for a remarkable view, but when Sam looked out at it, his face seemed to fall and he had the air of a man defeated.

“I will have to leave soon,” he finally said.

“I understand,” you told him, standing and going to the pile of golden rope to refix the rope you had made earlier.

Sam came to your side and help you, tying the rope to a wall bracket with a knot you had never seen before and testing it before he threw it out the window of your tower. You both crowded in the

“When can I see you again?” he whispered from his perch on the wall.

“The guards are never around on Sunday nights,” you whispered back, looking around carefully in the fading light in case any of the guards were laying in wait.

There was a loud silence as you and Sam listened for any sign that they were still around and you both only dared to breath when the woods were completely quiet.

“Til next week,” he whispered, kissing you briefly on the lips and then sliding down the rope to where he tugged on the rope to let you know that he was back down on the ground.

You were still shocked when you waved goodbye to him. You pulled the rope back up, heading to your bed and raising your hand to your lips, which were still tingling from the kiss. You couldn’t help but let out a squeal that rang around the tower and made you hold your breath from how loud it was.

Sunday could never come too soon.

* * *

 

Sam ran through the forest, his heart pounding with every step and a skip in his run. He headed back along the path he’d followed to the tower, trying to find the way back to the place where he’d left Dean. Oh, his brother was going to be sick with worry by now. He hadn’t meant to spend the rest of the time with Y/N…

It was getting colder now, and Sam was almost frantic himself, trying to find the clearing. With every new turn, he became more nervous, gripping his sword hilt until his fingers turned white and he jumped at every sound.

Finally, after almost an hour of increasing darkness and relentless searching, he spotted a trail of lanterns up ahead and heard his brother’s own distinctive yelling from the middle of the line of light.

“Sam!” Dean yelled, his voice almost cracking from fear and almost turning into a scream.

Sam winced to hear his brother’s pain, slowing to a walk and almost stumbling out into the path. Dean let out a victorious yell and rode over, swinging down to embrace his brother.

“Where the hell have you been?” he scolded, wrapping a cloak around his brother’s larger shoulders as he hurried him back to the main search party. “You’ve been driving everyone frantic…”

Sam shivered under the cloak and let his brother lead him back home, ignoring the instinct to push his brother away and make his own way to Gabriel.

Sunday could never come soon enough.


	4. At Last I See the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The violins sing, the noblewomen dance, a prince frumps on his throne and dreams of a golden rope. And a calamity of epic proportions loom overhead…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has smut in it.

The palace was lit up at every window with yellow light and as you leaned out the window, there was a hint of music travelling on the wind. The forest around the tower was dark and quiet, making you feel even more alone than before. Sam had told you the night before that he might not be able to make it to your regular visit tonight and you could see why. If he was nobility (As you were guessing he was), then he had to be at that ball.

You sighed, turning away from the window and going over your bed. Sitting on the edge of the soft fabric, you gazed around the room at the piles of straw and gold. Only a year ago, who would have thought that your life would have been like this. Alone in a tower, visited by an amazing man while your siblings live in the palace.

The weeks that had passed over the past seven months had been incredible. You and Sam visited for hours until sundown, often kissing each other goodbye with whispered promises of the next week.

The pair of you didn’t share more than you had on that first night except in small slipped comments. Like when you revealed that you were the daughter of a miller before you spun gold for a mysterious benefactor (You didn’t think it proper to tell Sam about the king’s involvement in your family). And he revealed that his birthday was the same as Prince Sam’s. The only thought you had about that was that this must have been the reason that he was named this.

You went over to the window and leaned on the stones, listening to the hints of song that blew towards the tower on the breeze, hoping that Sam was having an amazing time, but feeling jilted because he would be dancing with other women…

At the ball…

“Sam, stop being a wet blanket,” Dean said with a scowl, approaching his brother on the dais. “This is your birthday ball, get off the throne and start dancing with some women. Even Robert is dancing with someone.”

Sam gave his brother some satisfaction by looking up and seeing the toddler dancing with a tiny girl who he knew was a distant cousin. It was cute, but it only made Sam scowl more.

“None of them interest me,” Sam muttered, changing gaze and looking out the window over the forest to where he knew Y/N’s tower had to be. The only woman he wanted to see was waiting for him in the woods, not next to him in a ballroom where he wanted her to be.

“The point of this ball is for you to find a bride,” Dean stated, crossing his arms and looking over Sam with pursed lips. “That’s why-”

He was cut off by a soft voice that seemed to cut through the music.

“Dean, darling, come dance with me,” Dean’s wife cooed, sidling up to him and trying to pull him towards the dance floor.

“Hold on one moment-” Dean statement of her name was blocked out by the orchestra reaching a musical climax and blocking out his word.

She pouted, but walked away, going to their son, who had wandered over and was chattering about the nice young boy who was on the balcony now.

“Sam,” Dean said sharply, jolting his brother out of his daydream of his last visit to Y/N. “If you don’t find a bride tonight, you know what Father will do.”

“Yes, I know,” Sam said with an eye roll. “Find some finicky, prissy princess with a large dowry and make some alliance out of a marriage.”

“Don’t be so cynical,” Dean scolded. “Father would take your opinion into account before he made a final decision in a marriage.”

Sam huffed and sank further into the throne, pushing his head back against the chair and making his crown slip down over his forehead. Dean stared at his younger brother, wondering what could be making him so pensive as of late and very much like he was hiding something.

“Ever since you came out of that forest, you’ve been different,” Dean muttered, walking away with his wife and putting all thoughts of Sam’s odd behavior out of his mind.

Sam groaned and stayed in his spot for the next hour, turning down all princesses and noblewomen who attempted to lure him to the dancefloor. His father continued to give his youngest son disapproving glances, but Sam didn’t care.

Finally, when his ass was starting to hurt from sitting for so long, Sam stood stretched and walked down the steps, adjusting his crown with a look of intense concentration. He was making his way for the balcony that bordered the huge windows that looked over the game forest where Y/N was. He had decided to leave what he could of the party and just be by himself because the woman he loved couldn’t be where he was.

But he was stopped by a friend on his way.

“Hey, Sam,” Stephen cheered, passing the prince a glass of champagne as he and his dance partner broke off the dance floor and walked to meet him. “How are you liking the ball?”

“Not very much,” Sam admitted, passing the glass off to a passing waiter. He didn’t feel like drinking this evening. “I didn’t even want this ball to happen.”

“Cheer up, Sam,” Stephen said, giggling with his dance partner. “At least you are having a party.”

Sam rolled his eyes and kept walking, not hearing any protests from his friend or brother as he snuck out onto the balcony.

It was calm and cool on the balcony, with no one else around but him. Despite the isolation, Sam stepped quietly across the tile to the edge, leaning on the railing and looking out over the forest. It was too dark to see anything clearly, but he could swear that from his viewpoint, he could see her tower. He felt a deep longing to leave the ball and go to her, but his duty as a prince was to stay and at least be present.

Sam looked down at a tug on his coat, surprised to see a little boy looking up at him. The little boy was handsome, with black hair and bright blue eyes, but his expression was an odd mix of curiosity and sadness. Sam was surprised to see a kid like him out of the balcony and not inside with the other noble children. He was little, almost seven years old, with well groomed black hair and bright blue eyes that reminded Sam of his mother’s sapphires. He seemed almost angeilic and

“Excuse me, sir?” the young boy said, looking just as out of place as Sam felt.

“Uh, yes?” Sam said, wondering why this kid was asking him about something.

“Can you have this letter delivered?” he asked, looking like he was about to cry, which made his eyes only look even more blue. “My sister is far away and she needs to know this. Your father won’t let me send this…”

Sam nodded, taking the letter and looking at the name on the envelope. “Y/N, he breathed.

“You know Y/N?” the little boy asked, sounding shocked, the tears vanishing.

“Yes, I do,” Sam said, still staring at the envelope. He looked up at the boy, eyes bright. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Castiel,” the boy said shyly, looking away from Sam. “I just turned eight.”

“I will get this to your sister,” Sam promised, crouching down to Castiel’s level. “I just need you to do one small thing for me…”

Only a few moments later, with little Castiel asking Prince Robert to dance and causing enough of a commotion for Sam

Sam ran down to the stables, dodging serving maids and ignoring bows and curtseys along with mentions of his title. He slowed to a walk in the stables, sneaking past the darkened stalls to Gabriel’s stall where his horse was still tacked from an afternoon ride.

Gabriel nickered to see his owner and Sam smiled, pulling off his crown and slipping it into a bag that he hid under the hay in the back of the stall. He pulled a cloak off the hook next to the stall and slung it around his shoulder’s fastening the silver clasp. Stepping delicately over the straw, Sam led Gabriel out of the stables and down the path from the stables to a wrought iron gate that led to the game forest. Wincing at the creak, Sam swung up onto Gabriel and rode into the forest at a canter. His heart was soaring as he streaked through the woods, not noticing the figure watching him ride away.

* * *

You were almost asleep when you heard the bird call. You sat bolt upright, stumbling out of bed and running across the cold stone floor to your window. You practically threw your top half out of the window in your haste and excitement. To your delight, you looked down and it was Sam waiting there with a huge grin on his face.

“Sam,” you breathed, grinning as well as you ducked back into the tower and lit a lamp. You grabbed the golden rope and fastened it to the outside of the tower, letting it fall down to Sam as you waited anxiously for him to climb the tower. He ascended quickly, the whole rope wiggling as he climbed up to you.

You helped him in the window, thankfully not having him fall on top of you like you had the first time you both had met. You helped him pull off his cloak, tossing it onto the spinning wheel carelessly.

“I came as soon as I could get away,” Sam said breathlessly, kissing you on the lips as you embraced.

“You look incredible,” you whispered when you broke the kiss.

Indeed, if you hadn’t already been breathless, you would have had it taken away from you when you got a good look at what he was wearing. The [clothes](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.polyvore.com%2Fcgi%2Fimg-thing%3F.out%3Djpg%26size%3Dl%26tid%3D40838413&t=M2E5MDMwYzI3NjFhYjlhMTBmMWM1YjkxYzk5Y2U2Yzc0ZWU3ZWQzYSxzTkFqYUZ4UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AYmM2-EX78zdHo_cuoX_1tg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshido.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F133323193575%2Fat-last-i-see-the-light-rumplestiltskinrapunzel&m=1) were a deep blue and he looked very good in them despite how awkward he seemed to be carrying himself in them.

“You look incredible as well,” he whispered, looking over your [clothes](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fs-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com%2F736x%2F97%2Faa%2F17%2F97aa170457c996d56e790fd9d98540b7.jpg&t=ODcyNDA2NTQzYWFhMDI4ZTRkYmYxZTI3NzZjZDVjOTdmOTFhNGRlZSxzTkFqYUZ4UA%3D%3D&b=t%3AYmM2-EX78zdHo_cuoX_1tg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbookshido.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F133323193575%2Fat-last-i-see-the-light-rumplestiltskinrapunzel&m=1) as well.

You blushed. “I cannot compare to the other women who must have flirted with you at this ball,” you said, tucking a stray hair away from your face and anxiously rubbing your skirt’s fabric between your fingers.

“None of them could compare to how radiant you look this evening,” Sam whispered, his low tone sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, I believe I met one of your brothers,” Sam said, changing the subject and the mood. His announcement was stunning, making your eyes widen as he drew a carefully folded envelope from his coat and handing it to you.

Taking the letter from Sam, you felt tears begin to pool in your eyes and you sobbed happily, finally knowing for sure that your siblings were okay. Your hands were shaking as you opened the letter, breaking the wax seal with tentative fingers.

“‘Dear Y/N,’” you read, struggling to read the shaky handwriting that you knew to be Castiel’s. “‘I hope this letter gets to you. The king promised to send them to you, but I don’t think he held up his word. He said Bela and Michael were going to be living in a different part of the palace, but I don’t know where they went. You need to come quickly, escape how you can. I’m going to send this with someone who knows you, maybe they can help you. Love, Castiel.’”

You broke down into sobs, pressing your hand to your mouth to stop the gasps for air from escaping.

“Castiel is alone the castle,” you cried, tears splattering your brother’s letter. “The king… he… he broke his promise…”

Startled by your sudden revelation of who had been keeping you in the tower, Sam was frozen, just watching you cry as he tried to process the new information. But he knew what he had to do now.

Sam crossed the tower, and before you knew it, you were wrapped in his arms and he was steering you over to the bed. He picked you up easily and set you on the bed, laying you down gently with your head on the pillow. He stayed there, stroking your hair soothingly and just being there for you. Your sobs died down, and your breathing evening out as the night grew even more dark.

He thought you were asleep when he began to stand to leave, knowing that he would soon be missed back home.

“No,” you yelped, grabbing his wrist as he stood.

Sam stared at you in surprise.

“Stay,” you whispered, thinking that you were going to cry. “Please…”

“Alright,” he whispered back, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

“Sam,” you whispered, not sure if your next words would drive him away from you. “Will you comfort me?”

“I’m sorry?” he asked, confused, looking at you with his adorable forehead crinkles.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…” you said, pausing to find the words. “I want you to be my first.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Y/N, I… I don’t know what to say…”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, rolling over and away from him. “I should have known that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“No, no!” Sam said, exclaiming and gently pulling you back to face him. “I… I do want this. It’s just… It will be my first as well.”

You stared at him, waiting with bated breath for his next words.

“I just… “ Sam said, seeming to falter as you had when you first asked him. “I didn’t want to do anything unless you wanted this as well.”

You sat up and slipped your arms around his neck, knowing that you wanted this, and suddenly, his lips were on your’s and your hands were in his hair and his scent was everywhere. He captured your lips time and time again, making you barely even notice as he began to undo the laces on your corset.

“Too many… damn… clothes…” he muttered between kisses and when he could catch air.

You replied with a moan as his hands found your breasts and he began to pull your dress loose. Finally getting the corset off, he tossed it to the side and pulled your dress off over your head, revealing all of you to him. At first, you felt self-conscious, not sure how he would react, but when he cast a curious look over you and his telltale smirk began to appear, all worries went straight out the tower window.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, kissing you again and starting to trace his way down your neck with kisses, his hands all over your back and leaving small hickeys as he went. He hit your sweet spot right below your ear and he didn’t hesitate to nip there, making you gasp and arch back into his arms.

Taking that as your cue, you began to fumble with his clothes, undoing all of the buttons on his tunic and practically ripping it off as he nipped at your sweet spot again. It was sent sailing as well, landing next to your now abandoned dress, corset, and his boots which he had kicked off only seconds ago.

You both became suddenly awkward at this point, knowing that the only thing left between you, Sam, and the night together was a pair of trousers and simple laces. Your formerly tense and excited hands became gentle and smooth and you concentrated on the task of untying the laces, Sam helping where he could as you slowly pulled them down and away from his long, long legs.

You were pleasantly surprised by what was revealed (Despite the lack of experience to compare it to) and kissed him again, dropping the trousers next to the bed instead of across the room to join the other articles of clothing.

Sam was also more tentative, but definitely more confident than you. He was quick to pull you close, making you tense when you felt his manhood stiffen against you, but didn’t enter you as you had expected. Instead, he kept kissing you, constantly murmuring how you were beautiful, radiant, gorgeous, and a thousand other sweet nothings. His markings of possession were already taking shape on your neck and he began to continue them downwards, placing kisses all over your breast and making you shudder when he planted two kisses on each of your already stiffened nipples. He lifted his head to kiss you on the lips again, taking his chance and entering you, stifling your gasp with his kiss.

It did feel awkward at first, and a little bit painful, but as he slowly rocked his hips against your’s, the pain began to vanish and soon, you too were moving with him going forward to meet him with each movement. Sam and yourself moved as one, slowly getting used to each other’s bodies and the sensation.

After a while of getting used to the feeling, you could feel the movements getting faster and decided to see if something would create the same effect that his kissing had in you. You, ever so gently, tugged on Sam’s hair when you next kissed, unable to stop the smile of satisfaction when he groaned and bit his lip. You felt him stiffen inside of you when you tugged a little harder and you kissed him again, daring to barely nip his bottom lip. He responded with an even deeper kiss and a small smirk.

“I guess I like that,” he whispered, making you giggle, then gasp as your smallest movement hit a spot that felt so wrong, but so right.

By this point, Sam was almost pounding you with his thrusting and it was all you could to do not to melt into putty under his hands. He was almost constantly hitting what could only be described as the ultimate sweet spot, building the sensation of pleasure with each contact and bringing yourself close to an impending climax.

“Sam,” you gasped, tugging on his hair and arching back and up against the bed. “I’m-I’m close.”

“Me too, Y/N,” he grunted, the thrusting becoming much more rough as you both became more urgently wanting to break the final peak.

You felt yourself hit climax, the heat building to it’s highest level and making you sigh and scream at the same time, the pleasure bubbling up and going to every inch of your already burning body.

He followed suit only moments later, letting it all go inside of you and making you both sigh with satisfaction as the heat burned inside of you. The intense pleasure was slow to leave, with you both continuing to move together long after the first climax. As you both began to tire, Sam pulled himself out and kissed you again on the lips, long and passionately.

“If that was the first time,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to your’s. “Then I don’t know what can get better than this.”

You both sank back onto the bed, breathless and panting. You slipped closer to Sam, curling up close to him and tracing your finger over his chest.

“Promise me that you’ll never leave for good,” you whispered, resting your head on his chest as you both caught your breath again.

“I promise,” he whispered back, stroking your hair as you both began to drift off to sleep. “I promise…”

* * *

When Sam next awoke, sun was streaming into the window, straight into his eyes. He blinked several times, taking deep breathes as he blearily looked around. You had barely moved during the night, your hand still resting on his chest, right above his heart, but with your head pressed close to his side. He slowly shifted, not wanting to wake you, but failing as he sat up.

You yawned, blinking and squinting at the morning sun from your new position on the actual bed instead of on top of Sam.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling lazily at Sam and propping yourself up on your right elbow.

“Good morning to you too,” he said, leaning over and kissing you.

He broke it off quickly, panic in his eyes and you frowned, sensing the sudden tension.

“Sam, what’s wrong?” you asked as he nearly jumped out of the bed, pulling his trousers on and rushing to gather his other clothes.

“My brother and father,” he explained, his voice becoming muffled as he pulled his tunic back on and began to fasten the buttons. “They’ll be worried sick.”

You got up as well, picking your clothes up off the floor and pouting at him. “They can wait a little longer.”

“No, you don’t understand, Y/N,” Sam snapped, making you take a step back from the harshness. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, giving you a more soft look. “But they are very… protective.”

“I understand,” you said, casting your gaze down as you pulled your dress on over your head, but not fastening the corset.

“Until next time,” he promised, kissing you again and sliding down the rope to the ground. Sam ran into the woods, vanishing out of your sight when he swung up onto Gabriel and rode away, making your heart ache as he left you again.

* * *

“And where did you vanish off to tonight?” Dean asked, walking up to his brother with his wife on his arm and their son trailing behind.

“Yes, there were many young princesses who missed you last night,” the princess chimed in, giving Dean an adoring look.

“I am very sorry,” Sam apologized, adjusting his cloak. “But there was… a good friend of mine who took ill last evening. I had to go and see him in his last moments. If you will excuse me, I have to go see Father.”

“Well, don’t let us interrupt,” she giggled, pulling Dean away. “Besides, I do believe that Dean and I have some… business… to attend to.”

Dean gave her an adoring smile and then a shit-eating grin to his brother. Rolling his eyes as the crown prince and princess vanished, Sam hurried through the halls, his anger growing as he thought about what his father had done to you. To your siblings. His father had to have a better reason for locking you away than just your power over straw. And if he had his way, you would no longer be living in a tower; you’d be living in the palace as his bride.

He approached his father’s door, not knowing that the king had taken ill after Sam had left, having to be escorted back to his room and the royal physician being called. There was double the number of guards and they all straightened up, saluting Sam before dropping to a more casual attention.

“Your Highness,” the head guard, Robert Singer said.

“Hello Commander Singer,” Sam said, pulling out all of the stops to remain calm and not snap on a good family friend. “I have come to see my father.”

“I’m afraid that your mother has requested complete privacy this evening,” Singer said, looking straight ahead and past Sam. “I cannot let you in.”

“I must be let in to see my father at once,” Sam told the guard, his patience wearing thin. “It is a matter of national importance.

Suddenly, from behind the door, there was a dramatic scream.

“John! John, no no NO!” the scream continued, startling the guards long enough for Sam to force his way into his father’s chambers, throwing both doors open with a bang. He stared at the scene in front of him, aghast.

Dean ran in behind his brother, staring at the scene as well, shocked to his core. Queen Mary was kneeling next to her and her husband’s bed, head pressed to the sheets and her body wracking with sobs. She was clasping King John’s hand for dear life and, seeing the pallor in his father’s face, he knew that something terrible had just happened that would change their world forever. 


	5. Swept Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crown passes from hand to another hand and the sky hides the missing.

The apparition of their mother vanished, leaving only the royal physician standing and holding King John’s now limp wrist. Sam had to blink a few times to clear the ghost from his eyes and Dean seemed equally shocked.

“I am so sorry, my lords,” the doctor said, setting the king’s hand back on the sheets gently. “But I am afraid that your father is dead.”

“No,” Dean whispered, moving to the side of the bed where the ghostly image of their mother had been kneeling. “It was never supposed to happen like this…”

“Your Majesty,” a guard began.

“Don’t call me that!” Dean shouted, spinning on the guard angrily. “My father’s body is not yet cold and you declare that I have claimed his title? No, it shall not be this way.”

At that, Dean stormed out of the room, slamming the door as his wife greeted him with worried words.

Sam crossed the room, unable to look upon the body of his father any longer. He paused at the window, looking out over the forest and knowing that he should go and visit Y/N, but as he went to leave, Sam could have sworn that he saw a man standing next to the king’s bed, smiling and holding onto his cane. Sam paused, blinking and seeing that the man had vanished. A shiver ran down the prince’s spine and he left the room in a hurry, trying to shake the feeling that he was being watched.

The investor watched the prince as he stared at where the investor was standing. For a moment, Crowley thought that the prince had actually been able to see him, but when the prince left the room instead of raising an alarm, he knew that his suspicions had been misfounded.

“One down,” he said softly, pulling the king’s sleeve down to hide the bite marks. “Two to go…”

The disguise of being the long dead queen had obviously worked.

* * *

 

“Ready?” Sam asked his brother, helping straighten his epaulets.

It had only been four days, but the court and all of the advisers had insisted that Dean be crowned on the day of his father’s burial.

“Of course not,” Dean muttered, brushing Sam off and straightening his own clothes.

“You’re about to become king,” Sam said, stepping back and looking Dean over, feeling only a twinge of irritation. He should have been able to get out of the palace, but with the extra guards and all of the planning for the coronation, there was no way to leave, even in the dead of night.

“I would wish that this wasn’t so,” Dean muttered, buttoning his jacket up more.

“Hello, darling,” the queen to be said from the doorway, resplendent in a gold and cream gown.

“Hello-” Dean said, being interrupted before he could say her name by her planting a huge kiss on his lips.

“Wow, if I get greeted like this every morning,” Dean whispered, his mood suddenly improved. “Then I will be a very happy man.”

“When you are king, you should make that a royal decree,” she giggled, touching foreheads with him.

“I don’t think I need to,” he chuckled.

A knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Dean announced, wrapping his arm around his wife’s waist.

“Sir, it tis time,” a guard said, poking his head in the door.

“We’ll be out in a moment,” Dean assured him.

“Prince Sam, please follow me,” an escort said, directing Sam in the opposite direction of his brother and sister-in-law.

Sam complied, allowing himself to be led to the front row of the church where their extended family was waiting already. The Harvelle royal family in from the next kingdom over, Queen Ellen looking dewy eyed and her daughter looking just as broken. Sam took a seat next to his younger cousin, Princess Joanna.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Princess Joanna whispered, setting her hand on his knee and smiling sadly at him.

“Thank you for your condolences,” Sam said stiffly, shifting and pushing her hand off his leg.

Joanna looked jilted and straightened her shoulders, staring straight forward and no longer looking broken, just upset.

The ceremony quickly began, starting with a moment of respect for King John and a loudly echoed ‘May he rest in peace’ after each utterance of his name.

“And now, please welcome Prince Dean and his lovely bride,” the priest said, gesturing for the musicians to play. The trumpets were the first to play, followed by the strings in a gorgeous melody that was soon accentuated by a chorus and the people singing along.

“Oh,” Queen Ellen sighed, turning over her right shoulder to watch Dean and the princess walk down the aisle to the dais. “They look dazzling.”

Dean and his princess kept themselves straight faced, looking just as royal as a king and queen could be, separating only to take their places in front of the clergy members holding the crown, a priestess with a queen’s tiara; Queen Mary’s, Sam noted with a heavy heart; and a priest with the king’s crown that had only finished gracing their father’s head days ago.

The priest began a long speech about the responsibilities of power and the clarity that must be shown by rulers and the ever constant truth that the people were the reason they were ruling and… Sam fell asleep at that point, waking up halfway through a lecture about good money policy.

“Do you swear to use our power to guide your people, listen to their words and be a man of honor who sets the best example for the kingdom?” the priest asked Dean, holding the crown just above the crown prince’s head.

“I do,” Dean said, closing his eyes in anticipation.

“Do you promise to rule by your husband’s side with wisdom and loyalty and to be a hand of charity to your people?” the priestess asked Dean’s wife.

“I do,” she whispered, barely turning her head to look at Dean.

“Then by the power invested in the crown and the Lord, we do proclaim that your reign has begun,” the clergy said in unison, lowering the crowns onto the new royals’ heads.

“All hail King Dean and Queen -” the priest and priestess announced, wincing when the bell tower cut off the name of the queen and the end of the announcement.

“All hail King Dean and Queen-,” the court echoed as the bell blocked out the queen’s name again, and then the cheering began.

Sam cheered the loudest of all, whooping and clapping with all his might.

The new queen leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek, whispering something in Dean’s ear that made him smile for only a few seconds before he fell back into the stoic kingly manner that he had taken to wearing recently. Little Prince Robert broke out of the crowd and ran up to his parents, squealing happily as Dean picked him up and put him on his shoulders. The new crown prince giggled and started messing with Dean’s crown, tilting it almost off his head in an adorable crooked manner that made his wife giggle.

And so the next gear is spinning, the investor thought as he watched from the chandelier.

“Sam, I’m going out to deal with some final matters in Father’s will,” Dean said, waving a paper in the air for emphasis. “I’ll be back before sundown, tell my wife to not wait up for dinner.”

Sam nodded, going back to his reading.

Dean watched Sam for a moment, pursing his lips to see the title of the book he was reading: Magic Spells to Create Flight.

* * *

 

There was a knock on the tower door and you walked over slowly, having a feeling that it was the king, come for his usual Friday visit.

A strange man was standing on the other side, surprising you.

“Who are you?” you asked him, not sure if you should let him in.

“I am Dean Winchester,” he said, making you gasp at the mention of the royal family’s name.

“Your Highness,” you said quietly, curtsying and not looking the crown prince in the eyes now that you knew his status.

Prince Dean gazed around the tower as you straightened back up. His clothes were dark in mourning and his eyes seemed to be a dark emerald.

“My father has died,” he said, his voice cracking from the emotion. “And on his deathbed, he gave me a map to this tower. I did not expect to find someone here.”

“I am just as surprised as you, Your Majesty,” you said, changing his title now that he was king. “I was expecting you to be your father.”

“How long have you been here?” he asked, stepping from his spot to walk around your small tower room.

“Almost a year and a half,” you said truthfully, still not looking him in the eye.

“Alone?” he asked, sounding shocked.

“Not quite,” you said, not wanting to give Sam away.

“What is that supposed to mean?” King Dean asked.

“Your father visited me weekly with news of my siblings and every day guards would give me my meals through the door from whence you came,” you told him, feeling a huge weight being lifted.

“And that was it?” King Dean asked carefully.

“Yes, sir,” you confirmed.

“What was your duty or reason to be placed here,” he asked.

“I possess a… “ you said, choosing your words carefully. “Skill. That puts my talent in short supply and attracted the attention of your father.”

“I don’t know if you have heard of any of the laws that have been written into law by my dear wife when she was a princess,” the king said musingly. “But we have put new labor laws into effect and everything I have seen here completely defies them. I am shocked that my father would allow such isolation and labor. However, it does explain much of my father’s erratic behavior. Now if only we could explain my brother’s…”

You remained quiet out of respect.

He shook his head before continuing. “You will be removed from this place and taken back to the palace,” he ordered.

“No!” you gasped, taking a step forward.

The king looked at you sharply, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“I… I can’t leave,” you said, looking for an excuse for your outburst. “My siblings…”

“I will uphold my father’s promise to you,” Dean promised, taking your hands in what was meant as a soothing gesture. “You and your siblings will be taken care of for the rest of your lives. Your work for my father may have saved the kingdom, and I am in your debt.”

His tone made the decision final and you bowed your head again, walking around the room to gather your things.

“I need a moment to change,” you told the king, suddenly realizing how you could let Sam know what had happened.

He nodded and signaled for his guards to go down the stairs and wait for them. He followed his men down.

You took your chance and ran to your table, dipping the quill into the ink and scrawling a note to him. Once it was finished, you set the paper down to dry, taking the chance to change your clothes before rereading your words.

_Sam,_

_I know that we have only been together for the past year and that there is no hope for our relationship to continue._

_The king has come to take me away. He has promised to continue to take care of me and my siblings. I cannot refuse, lest my siblings and I be tossed out onto the street. Perhaps, one day, when you come to court, we shall meet again._

_Until then,_

_I love you,_

_Y/N_

“Ready?” King Dean called through the door.

“Yes,” you said, pulling a cloak over your clothes and straightening your shoulders.

It was time.

You placed the letter on the window sill, held in place by a heavy wooden spindle and turned to leave, turning the page on this book in your life.


End file.
